


It's Good To Be King

by lamujerarana



Category: Fantastic Four (Comicverse), Marvel (Comics), Spider-Man (Comicverse)
Genre: Anal Sex, Biting, Bondage, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-26 21:09:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10794804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lamujerarana/pseuds/lamujerarana
Summary: “You know getting tied up is more your thing than mine, right? I’m more the one who likes doing the tying,” Peter says. “See, the king of sex would know things like that.”“Oh, would you stop with that already?” Johnny complains.This is what Johnny’s been putting up with for the past week—Peter patting himself on the back and calling himself the king of sex every chance he gets.It’s incredibly irritating.





	It's Good To Be King

Johnny’s hands snap the cuffs shut around Peter’s wrists with a satisfying click. Now Johnny’s got Peter exactly where he wants him—spread out naked on silken sheets and entirely at Johnny’s mercy. It’s quite the sight. Enough to go to a guy’s head if he’s not careful, and that’s never been a word anyone’s used to describe Johnny.

Peter doesn’t seem too fazed at Johnny taking charge. He’s smirking up at Johnny, who’s straddling Peter’s slender hips, as though he’s still the one who’s in control.

“You know getting tied up is more your thing than mine, right? I’m more the one who likes doing the tying,” Peter says. “See, the king of sex would know things like that.”

“Oh, would you stop with that already?” Johnny complains.

This is what Johnny’s been putting up with for the past week—Peter patting himself on the back and calling himself the king of sex every chance he gets.

It’s incredibly irritating.

…but not, unfortunately, wholly unjustified. Peter and Johnny's sex life has improved exponentially since they first began dating, even more so since they fell into the comfortable rhythms of marriage.

A week ago had been their best sex yet—Johnny’d been away with his family on a trip through space for the better part of a month, and the sex when he returned had been vigorous, enthusiastic, acrobatic, and memorable. It had culminated with Peter fucking Johnny into a truly earth-shattering orgasm—he'd made Johnny come so hard that Johnny, embarrassingly, had passed out.

No amount of protesting that he'd had some mysterious space sickness and hadn’t slept in two nights and, anyways, had eaten bad space clams for dinner had managed to wipe the damn smirk off of Peter’s face, either.

Johnny thoroughly enjoyed the orgasm, but Peter’s behavior in the aftermath had soured him on it, especially when Peter unilaterally decided that he and not Johnny was the king of sex.

Tonight, Johnny’s going to prove differently. He’s better at sex than Peter is. Please. Johnny has spent years perfecting his talents in the bedroom. If Peter Parker, of all people, can get Johnny to pass out, Johnny can definitely do the same to Peter.

“I’m the king of sex,” Peter grins. “I’m pretty sure I can do whatever I want.”

Johnny is the true king of sex in this relationship. _Johnny_.

“Who’s got who tied up?” Johnny retorts. Peter could at least _act_ like Johnny’s in charge. For once. Just the pretense? That’s all Johnny asks. “I can do whatever I want. That’s the point of the handcuffs.”

Peter flexes his muscles and tests the strength of the admittedly flimsy handcuffs. Johnny could probably break out of them, and he doesn’t have even one-tenth of Peter’s strength. “I’m pretty sure I could get out of these,” he says. “I don’t think I’d even have to try very hard. Where’d you buy them, eBay?”

Johnny did indeed buy them off of the Internet, although not eBay—has Peter been buying his sex toys off of eBay? If so, he and Johnny are going to have a little talk later about how gross buying used sex stuff off the Internet is.

It’s not as though Johnny could go to his genius brother-in-law and ask him to design Spidey-proof handcuffs. That would lead to a number of awkward questions neither Johnny nor Reed would want answered.

“Hey,” Johnny frowns, wrapping his fingers around Peter’s wrist and squeezing hard in order to stop him. “No. Do not. Leave the handcuffs on. Parker. Come on. Don’t ruin my fun. It’s my turn.”

Peter’s warm hazel eyes are twinkling up at Johnny beneath a pair of messy, unkempt eyebrows. Would it kill him to trim them every now and then? “I dunno,” he says idly. “I’ve been trying to think of a reason why I shouldn’t break out of these cuffs and fuck you until you pass out again, and I haven’t been able to think of a single one.”

Normally, Johnny would be all for that, because it sounds pretty damn hot, but this is a matter of pride and Peter thinking he’s better than Johnny at something, and Johnny cannot let that stand, even if it means foregoing hot sex with his husband.

Not that the sex they’re about to have won’t be hot too, it’ll just be hot in a different way.

“Here’s one for you,” Johnny says. “Do that and you’ll be sleeping on the couch for the next month.”

Peter erupts into a skeptical burst of laughter, which Johnny deeply resents. “A month? Come on, there’s no way you’d last that long without—“ He waggles his eyebrows suggestively, and Johnny’s more embarrassed for his sake than anything. “—a little Spidey action.”

“I’ve done it before when I go on long space trips,” Johnny points out, “and I will do it again just to spite you.”

“Yeah, but, see, I’m not around when you do that,” Peter says. “Keeping your hands off of me when I am is gonna be a lot harder, let me tell you. And I will not make it easy for you.” His eyes are sparkling. “Do we still have that cowboy outfit you made me wear that one time?”

Johnny’s eyes narrow. Oh, Peter is far too full of himself. As tempting as the thought of Peter in that cowboy getup is, if Johnny doesn’t teach Peter a lesson, he’ll be impossible to live with.

Time to offer Peter a proverbial carrot rather than a stick.

“Let me do what I want to you tonight, and you can do whatever you want to me tomorrow night,” Johnny promises, brushing his lips against Peter’s, and trying not to smile at the way Peter tries to chase him when he pulls away.

Peter lets his head fall back against his pillow with a dull thump as he mulls it over. “All right,” he agrees after a beat. “But I’m holding you to the anything.”

Johnny shrugs. He’s not worried. “You haven’t found anything yet that I won’t try at least once,” he points out. “Now will you shut up so we can have sex?”

“Experience says no.” Peter smirks up at Johnny flirtatiously, in a way that makes desire twist in low in Johnny’s gut. “Guess you’ll just have to make me.”

Johnny makes a show of shaking his head disapprovingly. “I bet you think that was so smooth, Parker.”

“I’m glad you thought so too. See? That’s why I’m the king—“ is all Peter manages to get out before Johnny’s rolling his eyes and covering Peter’s mouth with his own.

Peter snickers a little into the kiss at first, but Johnny’s determined. He kisses and kisses Peter exactly the way Peter loves—slow, deliberate, with just a hint of teeth.

Johnny slips his hands up around the nape of Peter’s neck and pushes his tongue into Peter’s mouth. He smiles at the soft, pleased sound Peter makes at that.

Peter may be tied up, but he doesn't make the kissing easy. He keeps trying to take over. Jesus. Does he need to be the boss all the time?

When Johnny pulls away, he smiles at the way Peter sighs and settles back against his pillow, a satisfied look on his face, eyes half-lidded.

“Now that’s better,” Johnny says.

“Hmph,” Peter says. He shifts impatiently beneath Johnny. “Now what?”

Johnny grins. “Now I show you who the king of sex really is.”

One corner of Peter’s mouth pulls upward. “Me,” he says. “Definitely still me.”

“We’ll just see about that,” Johnny says as he begins to mouth down the sharp line of Peter’s jaw. He presses his mouth to that sensitive spot beneath Peter’s ear that he knows drives Peter crazy.

“Oh,” Peter says, mouth falling open. He tilts his head to the side to give Johnny more room.

That’s the benefit of having sex with the same guy most nights for years, Johnny’s found—he knows Peter’s body inside and out. Literally. Ha.

Johnny drags his teeth down Peter’s neck, but comes to a halt when he reaches the base of Peter’s neck—that little hollow spot where he can feel the steady beating of Peter’s heart against his tongue.

“Is this how you’re planning on beating me at sex?” Peter complains. “You’re going to tease me to death?”

Johnny grins up at Peter mischievously. “What’s the matter?” he says. “Am I going too slow for you, Parker?”

“Yes,” Peter hisses. “Hurry it up, would you? I'm gonna die of old age up here.”

“Peter,” Johnny says with a roll of his eyes, “babe. Could you just let me do this my way, for once? Backseat driving is always annoying, and anyways, you can’t drive.”

Peter sighs and nods to signal his acquiescence, and Johnny goes back to kissing his neck. Or, rather, he tries.

“This is more like a self-driving car, though,” Peter grumbles. “Those are cool, not annoying. Anyways, I don’t see why feedback is a bad—“

“Peter!” Johnny shouts, completely fed up. It’s tough, getting in the mood while Peter’s complaining all the time and picking apart everything Johnny says and does. “Would you just shut up? I’m trying to do something here!”

“It is a valid point and you know it!” Peter retorts. “And also—you drive a car into the East River once and no one ever lets you live it down! It wasn’t even my fault! It was Mysterio’s.”

Johnny’s heard this speech before, many, many times. He rolls his eyes. He knows what Peter’s like. He won’t drop this for the next twenty minutes if Johnny doesn’t stop him.

“One more word out of you,” Johnny threatens, “and I will literally put a sock in it. An old, unwashed, very used sock. Maybe one of Ben’s.”

Peter’s eyes widen. “You wouldn’t.”

“I so would,” Johnny lies. Not even he would be that cruel. Not to someone he loves, anyhow. “Now shh.”

Peter blows out a sigh. “You’re really serious about doing this, aren’t you?” he asks.

Johnny nods. “Yes,” he says. “I just want to prove that I’m better at sex than you. It’s really important to me.”

“Well, you’re not, because I’m the king,” Peter says. “The reigning sovereign. The undefeated champion. The—”

Johnny’s head jerks up. “ _That_ ,” he snaps, eyes flashing, “is because when you’re in charge, I actually let you _be_ in charge because I am good at sex, unlike some people.”

Peter’s mouth twists. “Well, now you’re just making me feel bad. For many reasons.”

“You’re ruining this for me on purpose,” Johnny retorts. “You should feel bad.”

Peter makes a frustrated sound. “Fine!” he says. “Fine! Guilt accomplished! Do your stuff. I’ll behave. Promise.”

“No more complaining?” Johnny checks.

“No more complaining,” Peter confirms.

“You promise?” Johnny double-checks.

“I promise, I promise!” Peter says. “What do you want me to do, sign a contract?”

“Next time we’ll have the lawyers draw one up,” Johnny smiles. “I’m thinking we call Jen.”

That startles a laugh out of Peter. “She would never speak to us again, assuming she let us live.”

“Matt?” Johnny suggests.

“Wouldn’t even answer the phone, probably,” Peter says, arching his neck to one side, “when he saw it was us calling.”

Johnny chuckles. “I can’t blame him,” he says warmly as he mouths up Peter’s long neck and licks over the shell of Peter’s ear. “We do tend to be trouble.”

“So is he!” Peter says. He side-eyes Johnny. “Hey, you should do that thing where you bite my ear.”

Is he _serious_ right now?! “Peter!” Johnny shouts. “Come on! You promised. No backseat sexing. Have I ever told you that you have serious issues?”

“Yep,” Peter says. “You have. And you are so right. I have many issues.” He tilts his head to the side so he can offer up his ear. “Now do the thing.”

Johnny sighs. Why did he ever agree to marry Peter? Sometimes it’s hard to remember. “The bossy thing you’ve got going on is really not as hot as you think it is,” he says, but he sinks his teeth into Peter’s earlobe anyways, albeit more vindictively than was strictly necessary.

“Mmph,” Peter grunts. He’s biting his lower lip, and looking as though he’s enjoying himself thoroughly. And for once there’s no witty comeback about how Johnny actually _loves_ the bossy thing, normally.

 _Huh_ , Johnny thinks. _Interesting_.

This definitely merits more investigation.

Johnny bites his way down Peter’s neck next—just a tad harder than he normally would, though not hard enough to draw blood—to see how Peter reacts.

Peter doesn’t complain. On the contrary, when Johnny checks his face to make sure he’s not in too much pain, what he sees is Peter with his eyes shut, his breath quickening, a slow flush crawling over his face.

When he bites down on Peter’s nipple hard enough that he knows it must damn well have hurt, Peter’s breath catches in his throat and then he actually moans. Long, low, throaty.

Peter’s usually so…quiet during sex. Not that he doesn’t talk and talk during sex, he just doesn’t normally make sex noises. Not like Johnny does when Peter gets him going.

So this…this means Peter likes being bitten. Likes that sharp edge of pain mingled with pleasure. Likes it a lot.

So Johnny keeps going, buries his teeth into Peter’s tan skin as he makes his way down Peter’s body, down the smooth, flat planes of Peter’s chest, down his perfect, washboard abs, down to the bony jut of his hipbones, leaving a trail of dark red bite marks in his wake that Johnny knows will, unfortunately, most certainly disappear by morning.

There are small gasps of pain or pleasure—Johnny can’t tell which, and he’s not sure Peter can either—when Johnny bites down especially hard that Peter does his best to suppress, but mostly, Peter finally, finally, finally stops providing nonstop commentary on Johnny’s every move.

Good. This is the point Johnny’d been trying to get Peter to, even though Peter’d been acting like a total jerk and—

He bites down on the inside of Peter’s thigh and only realizes afterward that it’s a little too hard, not that Peter minds, judging by the way Peter’s cock twitches.

Johnny kisses Peter’s open, gasping mouth roughly after that, and it’s different now—Peter’s not trying to take over the kiss anymore. He just follows along with whatever Johnny does. Oh, finally.

He keeps kissing Peter like that, at a calm, unhurried pace, until he can tell that Peter’s getting really into it and he feels Peter’s entire body relaxing beneath him.

Johnny loses himself in the shape and the taste of the mouth he knows so well, the slick wet slide of Peter’s tongue against his, the whisper of Peter’s hot breath against his skin, the short bristle of hair at the base of Peter’s neck, the hips Peter’s rolling deliciously against his own.

Slow waves of arousal wash over Johnny—it’s not rapid, not a quick flash of desire that burns brightly and yet fades within moments. It’s more of a slow-burning flame, dim at its inception, but long-lasting and blindingly bright before it, at last, fades away.

“Hey,” Johnny says, pulling away. “I bet this is the first time that the spider got bitten instead of the other way around.”

The corners of Peter’s eyes crinkle endearingly as he laughs. “How long’d it take you to come up with that one?”

“Oh, you know,” Johnny says. “It just came to me.” He presses a kiss against Peter’s mouth, and he can’t help it if he’s smirking. “You liked that. The biting. Why didn’t you ever tell me that you like that?”

“I dunno,” Peter says hesitantly. He frowns searchingly. “When we have sex, I guess I’m mostly thinking about what you like.”

That is…genuinely touching, and yet— “Aw,” Johnny coos mockingly. “Babe. Honey. Sweetheart. You love me. You really love me. How embarrassing. For you.”

“I _married_ you,” Peter protests. “Yes, I do love you. I said so in front of all of our friends and family. Why is this embarrassing?”

Johnny ducks his head as he snickers. “I’m just giving you a hard time, honey.”

“I’ve got something hard I wanna give you,” Peter says, and he waggles his eyebrows again like he thinks he’s Groucho Marx.

Johnny splutters out a laugh. “That was terrible,” he says. “Oh, my god. Why’d I marry you again?”

“Oh, I dunno. There are so many reasons. My good looks,” Peter says airily.

“They’re okay,” Johnny says amiably. “I’ve seen better. A lot better.”

“My charming personality,” Peter adds.

“It’s not charming,” Johnny says. “At all. Who told you that it was? It’s more…irritating. Exasperating. That’s another good word for it.”

“My amazing body,” Peter continues.

“Ooo,” Johnny says. He runs a hand down Peter’s side. “Unf. Yeah, baby. Getting closer now.”

Peter huffs out a laugh at Johnny’s clowning. “And…you like the way I fuck you.”

“Yep,” Johnny nods. “Mm-hmm. That was definitely it.”

There’s a playful gleam in Peter’s eye that Johnny doesn’t like. “Because I’m the king of sex.”

Johnny makes a face. “Nope. Too far. Go back to the last one. I liked that one.”

“Let me out of these handcuffs,” Peter says, rattling them against the headboard. “And I’ll fuck you right here, right now.”

“Nope,” Johnny says. “Nice try. No way. You get tomorrow night. This one’s mine." He grins cheekily. "And so are you.”

Peter rolls his eyes and lets out a long, exasperated breath. “I’ve heard a lot of talk about fucking, but so far nothing’s happened.”

“You’re getting impatient,” Johnny smiles. “That’s a good sign.” He presses a kiss of promise against Peter’s mouth, and then leans over and pulls out the drawer of their nightstand. He frowns. “Babe? Where’d you leave the lube?”

“It’s in there!” Peter says. “Just keep looking.”

Johnny does. He sees a lot of empty candy wrappers and assorted junk that belongs to Peter, but— “I’m not seeing it,” he says. “Are you sure you—“

“Oh,” Peter says, eyes widening as he remembers. “I think it’s on the floor by the bureau over there. This morning, remember?”

That’s _right_. Peter swung in through their window early this morning after a night of Spideying with a lot of adrenaline to burn, which had resulted in him sweeping a grumpy, still half-asleep Johnny off his feet, setting him down on top of that bureau, and fucking him _hard_. And then he’d bent Johnny over and done it again in the shower.

Okay, so Johnny maybe loves early morning sex with Peter. He’s so…feisty. Demanding. Deliciously rough. 

“Oh yeah. I forgot all about that, Mr. King of Sex,” Johnny says. He means that last part mockingly, which he _thought_ he’d made clear.

Johnny traipses over to the chest of drawers hunt for the bottle Peter’d tossed aside carelessly, which is when Peter decides to call after him, “Yeah, I am, thanks for admitting it!”

Johnny shoots him a dirty look over his shoulder. “That is not what I meant, loser. It was sarcastic.”

“It’s how I choose to interpret it,” Peter shrugs, and he just looks so damn smug Johnny can’t stand it. “You should just start calling me your majesty, probably. Sire? Is sire better?”

Hmph. Johnny throws a discarded glove at Peter’s face. It doesn’t quite make it the whole way, instead flopping down feebly on Peter’s chest.

Peter frowns down at it judgmentally. “We need to work on your throwing arm,” he deadpans.

“We need to work on you putting things back when you’re finished with them,” Johnny shoots back.

He kicks around the clothes Peter left scattered there until he spots the bottle of lube half-hidden underneath Peter’s discarded boot.

"Ah-ha!" he says, picking it up and showing it to Peter with a delighted grin, right before he goes back and straddles him once again, the bed shifting beneath his weight.

“You didn’t put it back either,” Peter points out.

“You took it out! Your responsibility!”

“I was too busy rocking your world, Storm,” Peter sniffs. “I didn’t have time to think about insignificant things like that. It’s not a sovereign’s business, anyways. That’s what my vassals are for.”

“And I’m your vassal?” Johnny says. “Not your, I dunno, prince?”

“No, definitely a vassal,” Peter decides. "The hot kind who always wears skimpy outfits. Or no clothes at all. I like that too."

Johnny narrows his eyes. “I think I’m going to go find that sock now.”

Peter snorts.

“You think I’m joking,” Johnny says. “I’m not.”

"Okay, okay, you can be my prince," Peter sighs. "Just no socks." He squints. "How do you feel about the skimpy clothes part?"

Johnny falls forward and laughingly kisses Peter. "I'll wear no clothes if you want me to," he grins cheekily. "But only when we're alone."

"I'm good with that," Peter smiles.

Johnny presses one last kiss against Peter's mouth before he sets to work ensuring that he's still loose enough from this morning to take Peter's cock. 

He's able to work two slick fingers inside of himself right away. He's so tight and hot inside and— "Hmm," he tells Peter. "So this is what it feels like when you fuck me."

Johnny opens his eyes, fingers still twisted up inside of him, and smiles at Peter. "Bet you wish it was you doing this."

Peter's biting his lower lip raw, watching that point where Johnny's fingers are disappearing up inside of him hungrily. "Yeah," he says hoarsely. He glances up at Johnny. "Babe. Come on. Let me out of these." His smile is full of filthy promises. "I'll make it worth your while."

Johnny smiles and shakes his head. "Nuh-uh. Nice try. Torturing you is too much fun."

Johnny fucks himself on his fingers for a while, making sure to put on a show to tease Peter—he gasps and moans and calls out Peter's name, and smiles at the way it makes Peter curse and squirm against his restraints.

When Johnny's satisfied that he's loose enough, he pulls his fingers out and starts toying with Peter's cock, rubbing it tantalizingly slowly against the slick cleft of his ass, and he smiles at the way Peter gasps when it bumps against Johnny's wet hole, his skin flushing a dark pink, a sheen of sweat covering his rippling muscles as he writhes underneath Johnny. 

"Johnny," Peter gasps. His eyes are scrunched shut, his mouth open and panting. "Come on, what are you waiting for?"

Johnny presses the thick, blunt head of Peter's cock against his hole, against that tight wet heat Peter is dying for.

"Say I'm the king of sex," says Johnny, "and I'll give you exactly what you want."

Peter does his best to scowl. "When did you turn into such a sadistic bastard?" he says disapprovingly. "You are not the man I married."

"No, I'm the man being married to you has turned me into," Johnny retorts. He was driven to this by Peter's self-aggrandizement. He hopes Peter understands that.

Just to prove the lengths to which he is willing to go, he pushes himself down onto the sensitive tip of Peter's cock and squeezes down around it.

Peter tosses his head back onto his pillow and pants, all desperation, "Oh, fuck.  _Fuck_. Johnny, come on—enough clowning now, come on."

Peter's characteristic air of bravado is fading away quickly now. Good. Johnny wants him to lose control—he wants him to let _Johnny_ be in control. 

"I'm just waiting for those five little words," Johnny says. "And you'll get just what you want."

Peter's whole body is _shaking_ with the need to bury himself inside of Johnny, although he does hold out for a respectable amount of time. "Okay," he says. "Fine. You're the king of sex. You win this round."

Oh, thank god. Johnny's thighs were beginning to ache. He rewards Peter by sinking down on his cock, taking him as deep inside as he can go. The air rushes out of Johnny's lungs as he feels his body stretch around Peter's cock, make room for him in that space deep inside of Johnny that's all Peter's. When he bottoms out at last, he takes a moment to breathe—he's _full_ , so gloriously full, and there's little he loves more than this. 

Peter's eyes are closed, his mouth open, his back arched, so lost in pleasure he doesn't know which way is which, and Johnny can't--he _has_ to kiss him.

He drops forward onto his hands, plants them onto the mattress, and leans forward enough to kiss Peter as he grinds down on Peter's cock, moans helplessly into Peter's mouth. 

"Move," Peter's pleading against Johnny's mouth, "babe, _move_."

Johnny doesn't even stop to think about it--he does exactly what Peter says, and starts to ride his cock—slow, at first, but with increasing speed and force and urgency as he continues. His arms give out and he collapses down onto his elbows, and his thigh muscles are burning as though they're on the verge of giving out too, but he keeps going—he's close, so _close_ , he just needs—

There's a loud cracking sound that Johnny can't place. He opens his eyes and discovers that Peter's handcuffs have snapped in two, easy as twig. They simply couldn't take the force with which Peter's been straining against them. 

His eyes meet Peter's—they both know this a game-changer. Johnny could hardly keep Peter in check even when he had him tied up. 

Peter, free at last, grins in a way that is verging on predatory. He doesn't waste any time. Moments after he realizes his hands are free, that he can finally touch Johnny, he surges up, traps Johnny's mouth within a rough, hungry kiss and takes Johnny in his arms. Johnny can't stop himself—he knows he should be angry at Peter for disregarding the rules, for messing up Johnny's careful plans, but he can't bring himself to be. He moans and melts into Peter, doing his best to keep up with the frantic, demanding pace of his kisses.

The next thing Johnny knows, Peter's flipping them over and slamming Johnny down deliciously hard against the silken bedsheets, icy cool against Johnny's skin. Johnny groans. 

Peter manages to halt just long enough to say, "This is okay, right? Please say it's okay."

"Yeah," Johnny says, kissing Peter desperately. He just wants Peter to _move_. "C'mon, c'mon, fuck me the way you did last week, you know you've been dying to—"

The rest of his words are lost in a gasp as Peter's hips slam against Johnny's hard enough to make Johnny see stars, hard enough send Johnny scooting up the bed. Johnny scrambles to hold onto Peter's shoulders for dear life, fingers digging into Peter's broad shoulders. Peter's too worked up to take it easy on Johnny, and that's good, that's good, that's _perfect_ , that's exactly what Johnny wanted. 

Peter's putting his whole body into every thrust, pounding into Johnny at a pace that's got the headboard thumping rhythmically against the wall, and when he tilts Johnny's hips up to get a better angle and he brushes his cock against Johnny's prostate, Johnny gives a hoarse shout. 

Peter grumbles something about not being deep enough, and his hips still as he grasps the backs of Johnny's thighs and presses them back, folds him in half and spreads him open, and starts to thrust relentlessly against his prostate, and Johnny moans and moans as the edges of his vision white out from pleasure.

Yes, yes, _yes_ , this is what Johnny _loves—_ he never feels so wild, so out of control, as he does when Peter's holding him down and fucking into him hard, no mercy or quarter given.

Johnny's been holding himself back, thinking about Peter and Peter's pleasure above his own, and there's something so liberating about finally being able to let go, because Peter's here, and Peter's in charge, and Peter will take care of him. 

It's Johnny's turn to gasp and sigh and moan as he lets Peter move inside of him. Johnny can't breathe—it feels as though he's floating through space, gasping frantically for air that's simply not there. His mouth is dropped open, his back arching as his hips move back against Peter's as best as he is able despite being pinned down, body clenching down rhythmically around Peter's cock. 

"Oh, fuck," Johnny chanting, "don't stop, don't stop, don't _stop—_ "

It doesn't take Johnny long to come. Within moments, he's gasping Peter's name hoarsely and arching beneath him, and coming, and coming, and coming like there's no tomorrow.

Peter's thrusts after that are short and hard and fast, less concerned with Johnny's pleasure now than his own. Johnny can feel in the clench of his muscles that he's so close to coming. He just needs something to tip him over the edge, and...Johnny knows exactly what he needs. He bites down viciously hard into the thick cord of Peter's neck and scratches his nails in deep up Peter's back. 

Peter moans and shoves in hard one last time, and Johnny moans when he realizes that he can actually feel Peter's cock twitching deep inside of him, filling him full to the brim.

Peter collapses on top of Johnny after that, and they both lie there, motionless, as they try to catch their breath. Peter lets go of Johnny's thighs--which is good, because they were starting to ache, and Johnny wraps his legs around Peter, and pulls him in close.

“So what are you gonna do to me tomorrow night?” Johnny asks.

“Mm,” Peter says, busy sucking wet kisses up Johnny neck. “Tie you up, probably, and show you how it’s really done.”

Johnny splutters out a laugh. “There’s no way you’re topping this.”

Peter smiles against the soft skin of Johnny’s neck. “There’s a reason I’m the king of sex, you know.”

Johnny rolls his eyes. “Because you decided you were without asking me, your loving husband, first?”

“No,” Peter hums. “It’s because I’m better at sex than you are.”

“Are not.”

"Are too."

"The sex we had today was amazing, and it was all thanks to me," Johnny retorts.

"No," Peter scoffs. "Please. It wasn't amazing until _I_ took over. It was just okay before that. Maybe like a five."

"Out of three?" Johnny retorts. "Yep, I agree with that."

"No," Peter hums. "Out of ten."

Johnny sighs. He can see this is an argument they're going to be having for a while.

Somehow, he's okay with that.


End file.
